"The Seventh Side of the Triangle" (10/13)
by Susan Jameson(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)
See part 1 for disclaimers, etc.


Mulder was right. It is normal, and desirable, for me to want to be
with a man. That's why I fell for him, because he is every inch a man,
as is Daniel ... and Jim.

Why, then, did it still feel so wrong to be in Jim's arms, to be
sitting here in warm, peaceful silence, leaning my head on his
shoulder and letting him carry the double burden of my worries and
Mulder's together?

I didn't know. I knew I would have to face that question soon.

But I just kept telling myself it was not yet ... not yet.


************

Somewhere in Russia

************

As Daniel Saw It

************

We hadn't been asleep for more than an hour when the riders caught up
with us.

If the moon hadn't already set, we'd have been captured in no time,
still asleep in each other's arms. As it was, though, the moonlight
had faded to nothing and the sun wouldn't be up for hours.

Fox heard them first, and woke up fast, the way people do who are
constantly on alert. I've seen it in combat veterans, and I've seen it
in shore patrolmen, too. I don't have that facility, so it's a damn
good thing I wasn't alone.

As it was, I was startled awake by the feeling of Fox's hand over my
mouth. I jumped about a mile, and I probably would have yelled if I'd
been able to. Fox kept his hand over my mouth to make sure I didn't;
he knows me pretty well, I think.

"Daniel, don't make a sound," he whispered in my ear. "I don't think
they've seen us yet, but they will if we move, so lie still."

I nodded to let him know I understood, but I turned my head very, very
slowly in Krycek's direction. Even wrapped up in the silvery Mylar
blanket, he was little more than a not-so-dark patch against the black
night. He seemed to be asleep.

The first of the riders reined his horse to a stop not three feet from
Krycek, and I thought my heart would jump right out of my chest,
because he was almost close enough to hear us breathing. The rider
said something in Russian, of which I caught only one word: Tovarisch,
comrade.

Krycek roused himself then and responded in the same language. I could
only assume he was telling the rider about his injury, because the guy
leapt from the saddle and pulled the blanket back. He was horrified,
too, to judge from the way he gasped and jumped back. For a second he
didn't move, but he seemed to recover himself and he began pelting
Krycek with questions.

I didn't catch much of it; not, that is, until near the end, when I
heard the rider say what sounded like "Americans," and "spionem,"
which I understood because it sounds a good bit like the French for
"spies."

I wanted to tell Fox what I'd picked up, but when I turned toward him
and opened my mouth to speak, he shook his head. No, he was saying.
Not now.

Okay, Fox, not now. How about after they grab us and put us in front
of a firing squad? Would that be okay?

And then Krycek did something very peculiar. He looked in our
direction, shook his head and said, "nyet."

That was all. The rider helped Krycek into the saddle and led the
horse away from us.

"What the hell was that all about?" Fox said, when he was sure the
riders were out of earshot.

I shrugged and sat up. "He told them we weren't here, I think," I
said, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck to ease the stiffness.

"Why the hell would he do that?" Fox said, sounding almost angry. "He
hates my guts; even if he didn't, he's the one who got me involved in
this damn case in the first place."

"Maybe because he owes me one?" I said, feeling a bit nettled. "I did
take care of him, after all."

Fox shook his head, then he sat up. "That's not like him," he said.
"He's never passed up a chance to hinder my work; not that I can
remember, anyway."

Krycek had another reason, of course, but Fox didn't know about that
one. I wondered briefly whether I shouldn't go on keeping those facts
to myself, but I rejected it almost as quickly. If I didn't tell him,
he would more than likely find out someday from someone else. Our
relationship might not survive that, because there wasn't much reason
for him to trust me unless I was equally willing to trust him.

I took a deep breath, let it out and reached for Fox's hand.

"Fox," I said, "there's something I have to tell you."

************

As Mulder Saw It

************

I nearly lost it altogether when Daniel told me that Krycek was the
shooter who'd so nearly killed him. I was furious: at Krycek for
having done it, and at Daniel for having kept it from me.

"What the fuck were you thinking, not telling me that?" I hissed at
him. I would have yelled, but even in so towering a rage, I knew I'd
better keep my voice down. "Don't you realize he could have shot you
while we were asleep?"

"I doubt he had the strength for that, Fox," Daniel said. He looked
calm enough, but then, he usually does. "Even if he had the strength,
he didn't have the gun. You did."

"You don't know him, Daniel," I said. "I told you that earlier. You
didn't believe me then and I don't think you believe me now, but you'd
better start listening to me. If the people he works for wanted you
killed, that means they know about you -- about us."

"I know that," Daniel said, mildly. "But they haven't outed us yet.
Maybe they're not going to."

"Maybe they're just saving it for a rainy day, until they want me to
do something for them," I said. "You should have told me. Even if it
didn't give them leverage over me, you should have told me so I'd know
to be on guard."

"Fox, you told me that if these people wanted you dead, you'd be
dead," Daniel said, still with that infuriating calm. "So what's the
point of being on guard?"

"The point is that Alex Krycek is dangerous as hell," I said, turning
my back on him and pulling our remaining blanket over me. "I don't
really know how good a shot Krycek is; he may have been trying to kill
you and just missed."

"He didn't miss," Daniel said. "He shot me -- and caused a wound that
could easily have been fatal. But I would point out that he did it
practically next door to Bethesda, which, if I do say so myself, is
one of the best hospitals around."

"So what the fuck was the point?" I snapped, sitting up again. "You
got any theories on that, Commander?"

"I've got one theory," Daniel said, quietly. "My theory is that if we
don't stop sniping at each other, we're not very likely to get out of
Russia alive."

"We will," I said. "Just as soon as you stop keeping things from me."

"I will," Daniel said, and now there was just the slightest edge to
his voice. "Just as soon as _you_ stop keeping things from _me_."

"I'm not keeping anything ..." I began, and then I caught myself.

Daniel noticed, though. He always notices.

"There is something, isn't there?" he said.

I didn't answer. I wouldn't even look him in the eye. I could tell he
was hurt by it, but all he did was lie back down and -- with a quiet
sigh -- pull part of the blanket over himself.

"Goodnight, Fox," he said, in a resigned tone, but he took my hand as
he spoke.

I wasn't going to tell him. I swear to God, I wasn't. If it weren't
for the fact that I'd just spent five minutes yelling at him for
keeping things from me, I'd probably have rolled over and gone to
sleep, feeling very self-righteous and ill-used.

That's what I would have done, had nature or God or whatever is in
charge not granted me the grace of a second thought.

And so I told him. It scared the living shit out of me, but I told him
everything. I told him about how Krycek came into my life, about
Scully's disappearance and how it had affected me, about how I tried
to get Kristen Kilar to kill me because I was too much of a coward to
kill myself.

I told him about John Lee Roche, and how I went cowboying off and
allowed a dangerous serial killer to escape from prison. I told him
how I blew Roche's brains out with my backup weapon.

I told him about killing Gerry Schnauz.

I told him about Skinner.

I even told him about his mother.

I had to, because he knew; maybe not about her, specifically, but he
knew something like that had happened. He just didn't know the
details. But it was hurting us, putting up a barrier between us that
we could both feel even if neither of us could really see it.

He was upset by what his mother had done, no question about it. Shit,
who wouldn't be? But overall, he took it all a lot better than I'd
ever thought he would.

"None of that is your fault, Fox, especially not my mother," he said
as he cradled my head on his shoulder. "She does what she wants, and
even my father can't make her change her mind. You're too damn quick
to blame yourself for things you can't control."

"Maybe, maybe not," I said. "But just because I'm having a bad time at
work doesn't excuse my keeping that from you."

"Having to use deadly force twice in two weeks is a little more
than just a bad time at work, Fox," he said. "I wish you'd told me."

"I know you do," I said. "But Daniel, I don't even want to _think_
about that shit when I'm with you, let alone talk about it. I don't
want to fuck up what little time we have together with tales of how I
went Dirty Harry on some child-molesting serial killer."

"Fox, we had this argument two years ago," he said, shaking his head.
"You want to be with me but you don't want to tell me when things go
wrong. Well, I need more than that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean that I need you to trust me," he said, very softly. "I'm not
asking you to strip your soul bare; I just need you to tell me enough
so I don't have to stumble around blindly, wondering what the hell's
wrong with you. I'm not going to turn on you or think less of you
because you did your job, no matter how bad it gets."

"You just don't know how bad it can get," I said. "You don't know some
of the things I've seen, or the things I've done ..."

"No, I don't," he said, and tightened his hold on me. "But I know you,
and I know you do everything you can to make things go right. That you
can't always do that is just a fact of human life. Why didn't you tell
me any of this before? Did you think I wouldn't understand?"

I gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Daniel, I don't understand it
myself," I said. "I have my suspicions about where Scully was and what
happened to her, sure, but I can't prove one goddamn thing and even
she doesn't really believe my theories on that subject; not all of
them, anyway. As far as Krycek goes -- I don't know what to say except
that tricking was just what I did back then."

"We've all done it," he said softly, and pressed his lips gently
against my hairline. "God, I wish I'd known you then. I hate to think
of you going through all that alone."

"I wish you'd been there, too," I said, pressing my face a little more
closely to his chest. "Shit, I wish I'd had you around from the day I
joined the FBI, although I'm not sure I would have had the good sense
to fall for you then. I had a few things to learn first."

He laughed at that, quietly, but with genuine amusement. "Actually,"
he said, "if you'd met me then, you probably wouldn't have given me a
second glance."

"How come?" I asked, turning my head to look up at him. "I mean,
you're pretty damn ugly, Daniel, but I can't imagine that you were any
uglier back then."

"Not ugly, maybe, but definitely married, Bozo," he said. "You would
have walked right past me."

"Shit, I forgot about that," I said, a little more quietly. "You're
right. I would have taken one look at that wedding ring and kept
going. The last thing I ever wanted was to get mixed up with a
straight guy who was looking to experiment."

"I know," he said. "I got that reaction from a lot of guys back then,
believe me. And I didn't blame them. I just tried to find another way
to get what I needed."

"What other way?" I asked, twisting my head around so I could see
him.

"The usual guy stuff," he said, with a shrug. "Remember the day we
met?"

"Of course I do," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you remember how it happened?" he asked.

"I twisted my ankle and you came over to check on me," I said.

"You didn't just twist your ankle, Fox," he said. "You got fouled.
Stan Ray -- he's the knuckle-dragging ape with the bad toupee --
practically tackled you. That's why you fell."

"Okay, he tackled me," I said, quietly. "I still don't see what that
has to do with what we were talking about."

"Well, as you pointed out once," he said, "I lived as a straight man
for a long time. And I'm here to tell you that that kind of shoving
and pushing and back-slapping is about all the physical contact
straight men ever allow each other. It's like they've got a force
field all around them: You don't look, you don't touch, you don't even
talk in any way that could be remotely construed as affectionate.
They'll knock the crap out of you if you try."

"I know that," I said. "I've been around straight guys all my life. I
know how they act."

"Yeah, but you've never had to settle for getting hit and slapped and
punched because it was the only way another man would ever touch you,"
he said. "Do you have any idea what it's like to need that touch so
badly that you'll put up with the macho shit rather than live without
it?"

"I've had periods of celibacy," I said, feeling a little nettled. "I'm
not completely wild and crazy."

"It's not the same," he said. "Even if you were abstinent for a while,
if you woke up in the night and you really needed to be with someone,
you could go out and find someone. Even if he was just a trick, he was
still somebody."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to go looking for a trick, Daniel," I said.
"You already had somebody; sometimes lately, I think maybe you still
need to have her. "

"No," he said, very quietly. "I loved Jill. I still do. But what I
feel for you goes way beyond that, to something that has no parallel
in the straight world. Do you really understand what a profoundly
intimate act it is for one man to touch another the way you and I do?"

"Yeah, I know," I said, and I took his hand and kissed it. "Just not
from the same perspective as you. But that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

I touched my fingers briefly to his lips. "This," I said. "Someone to
talk to. Someone who can be to you what Scully is to me."

"You mean Jill?" he said, then he shook his head. "That can't happen.
There's too much history there, good and bad. There's no way we can be
just friends."

"I never said you could," I said, settling my head against him. "But
I'll bet you can still talk to her."

There was a long silence before Daniel answered.

"Yes, I can," he said, quietly. "But I didn't think you wanted me to."

Thank you, Daniel, for letting me know just what a shit I really am.

"I didn't," I said, after a pause. "But I was wrong. You never asked
me to give up any of what I have with Scully; I had no right even to
insinuate that you should give up what you still have with Jill."

Daniel fell silent for a moment.

"You know, I was just wondering about something you said earlier," he
said, finally. "You said nothing happened with you and your vampire
lady because you never had any sexual interest in a woman. I wonder if
you know how rare that really is -- I mean, never, ever in your whole
life to want that."

"I have an idea," I said. "I also know that you do want that
sometimes; not just in the past, but even now, and that's part of why
you don't think you can be just friends with Jill. Sometimes, you're
still interested in her that way. Am I right?"

Daniel was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded. "Rarely, but it
happens," he said. "I think I've learned to deal with it, though. Does
it bother you?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Maybe a little. I know
people sometimes have desires that go against their basic sexual
orientation, but I've never really had that kind of desire for women
and it's hard for me to understand it."

"It's not easy for me to understand it either," Daniel said. "I didn't
begin to understand it until very near the end of my marriage."

"Is that why you thought you were straight for so long?" I asked.

"I don't think I ever really thought I was," Daniel said, looking up
at the sky. "I always knew what I really wanted, and I knew what it
meant. I just didn't want to believe it. When I met Jill, when I fell
in love with her, I was so damn relieved. I told myself that all those
other feelings I'd had were just adolescent curiosity, that they meant
nothing except that I hadn't met the right woman yet. It took me
fifteen years to admit the truth to myself, and by that time, I was
already married and an officer in the United States Navy."

"What was the truth?" I asked, quietly.

"That I didn't fall in love with Jill because she's a woman, but in
spite of it," Daniel said, simply. "She's the only woman I've ever
really felt that way about, but it just wasn't enough."

"But you said you loved her and you were attracted to her," I said.
"So how is it that that wasn't enough?"

He shook his head. "It just wasn't," he said. "It wasn't even close to
being what I needed. For me, being married was like trying to subsist
on nothing but carbohydrates. You can survive on that for a while, but
eventually the lack of protein is going to kill you."

"So I'm the cheeseburger in this equation?" I asked him, lightly. He
smiled, and I felt a 10-ton weight lift from my chest.

"You're all four food groups, kid," he said, and he laid his hand
lightly on my face. I took his hand in mine and held it tightly.

"But you have thought about it?" I said. "About getting back with
Jill?"

"No," Daniel said, shaking his head. "I just wish I could do something
to make it all up to her, to repay her in some way for everything
she's been to me and everything I've done to hurt her. But then, you
know what that feels like, don't you?"

I damn sure did. And Daniel knew it.

I sat up and wrapped my arms around my bent knees. I was thinking
hard, mostly about whether I'd be able to admit the truth of what
Daniel had said.

"Okay, you've got me," I said, after a minute. "I've thought about it.
Sometimes Scully just seems so damn sad and lonely, and I know she
still wants me ... "

"And I've always wondered why you didn't at least try it," Daniel
said. "You love her, and you know it would make her happy."

"No, it wouldn't," I said, shaking my head. "I know she still wishes
sometimes that things were different, but they're not: sex with Scully
is just not what I want."

"Sometimes things happen even if they're not what we really want,"
Daniel said.

"Daniel, what I really want is you," I said. "I want Scully to be
happy, but I can't make that happen for her. Not like that. She's
better off with her dreams of what might have been. And that's not an
easy thing for me to admit, believe it or not -- not even to you, or
maybe even especially not to you."

"Seriously?" Daniel said, and I could hear the surprise in his voice.
"Why is it so hard to tell me that?"

I shrugged. "Because there's always that little voice of cultural
conscience telling me that if I were a real man, I'd be able to get it
up with a woman. Well, I can't. You can, though. You did, for years."

"Not as often as you might think," Daniel said. "Anyway, I thought I
was the one with all the internalized homophobia."

I laughed. "We all have it to some extent," I said. "Straight guys and
gay boys. That's one thing I learned as a profiler."

"So what exactly do you propose that we do about it?" Daniel said,
more softly.

I thought for a minute. "I think the best thing we could do," I said,
"is to go back to the Vineyard as soon as we can and spend some time
persuading each other of the virtues of gay sex."

"Works for me," Daniel said, with that killer smile on his face. He
looked so beautiful smiling that way, with the last remnants of
moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

I can't resist him when he looks like that. I slid over next to him,
but this time I took him in my arms and kissed him, a long, slow,
exploring kiss. If I hadn't been so goddamn tired and, to be honest,
already so fucked out, I might have been tempted ...

But I was tired, and so was he. Shit, he was exhausted, and my best
estimate had us walking for at least another day before we made St.
Petersburg. I wanted to make love with him, but that would have to
wait. For now, all I could do was try to protect him from dangers he
didn't really see and couldn't comprehend if he did.

So I just held him and kissed his forehead, running my fingers through
his hair and rocking him gently. I love to hold him like that, but I
so rarely get the chance.

"You gonna sing me a lullaby?" Daniel murmured sleepily.

"Only if you want to have nightmares," I said, and that made him
laugh. "Go to sleep, Daniel."

"I will if you will," he said, stifling a yawn.

"I'm on watch," I said. "I wouldn't sleep right now even if I weren't.
Come on, Navy, stand down."

"Okay," he said, nestling more closely against my shoulder. "Love
you," he mumbled just before sleep took him.

"I love you, too," I said, and I kissed him one more time. His eyes
were already closing.

For the rest of the night I just lay there, holding him and watching
over him as the northern sky wheeled slowly toward dawn.

Shortly after sunrise, we caught a ride from an old man who was taking
his swine to market and we made St. Petersburg the next afternoon. Our
tickets were waiting for us at the airline counter.

I slept all the way home.

************

Scully's cell
Monday

************

As Scully Saw It

************

I shouldn't be this nervous. I know what I've got to do, and I know
that I will most likely be spending at least one more night in this
jail. I'm absolutely convinced, too, that if I don't talk, all
Skinner's connections won't stop the committee from ordering me held
in solitary confinement, without visitors, or -- what would be worse -
- ordering me incarcerated with the rest of the jail population.

I've known of more than one law-enforcement officer who got hurt very
badly when that happened.

I suppose I'll be freed when Mulder comes back, but I can't shake the
fear that he won't. I don't even know whether Daniel was successful in
finding him, or if he even got Marita to tell him anything. I don't
know, and it's killing me.

Nights are the worst time here. Lights out is at 9 p.m., so I have to
put my reading away then, but I don't sleep. The sound of doors
slamming and the occasional cries from the other cells, combined with
my fears for Mulder and Daniel, are more than enough to keep me awake.

All I can do is lie here in the dark and imagine what horrible
things may have happened.

I will never let anyone see my fear, though. No matter what happens,
the committee will never see me anything less than perfectly composed,
perfectly in control. I will never give them the satisfaction of
knowing how frightened I am.

Jim knows. I didn't tell him; indeed, I tried my best not to let him
know, but somehow, in some almost ... well, spooky way ... he seems to
know what's inside me.

It scares me, and yet I find myself drawn closer and closer to him.
Mulder calls that need "psychological visibility": the need to have
someone see, without being told, what's in your mind and your heart.

When things are going well, I have that with Mulder. I always have it
with Daniel, but it's in a much lower key.

Jim ... Jim hardly knows me, but he sees right through me, and I am so
afraid of that even as I want more of it ... of him.

I am pathetic, am I not?

Before he left yesterday, Jim told me that he's reasonably sure he'll
be at sea for Christmas. He's asked me to keep the gifts he's bought
and give them out at the appropriate time. I told him that I would.

"Maybe when this case is wrapped up and everyone's back safely, we can
all go spend some time on Martha's Vineyard," I said, carefully
stressing the plurals. "It hasn't been much of a leave for you; we'd
like to make it up to you."

"I'd like that a lot," Jim said, with a soft smile that told me he
knew what I was saying. "It's a nice place, and the company's about as
good as it ever gets, for me, anyway."

"Well, Daniel is always glad to see you, and Jill is, too ..." I said,
a little nervously, but Jim interrupted me.




END "The Seventh Side of the Triangle" (10/13)
by Susan Jameson(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)